Ten minutes later, I walked out of the coffee shop with my cappuccino, an extra scone, and an order for English lavender. Plus, the cousins seemed interested in testing out some of my charms with their clientele, too.
What did I just say about making connections to this town?
My cell rang, pulling me out of my thoughts. I unlocked the car and set my food and purse on the passenger seat. Dug my phone out of my back pocket and answered it without looking.
“Hello, this is Betty,” I said.
“Betty, it’s Bronwyn Jonas.” Her voice was whisper-soft and trembly. “I’ve got a problem over here at Wicked. A big problem. Could you possibly stop by?”
Bronwyn was an active member of the Las Palmas Coven, a group of witches I loathed. I did business with her, but we were hardly pals. Why in the world would she be callingmefor help?
I must’ve hesitated for too long, because she said, “I can pay you. Or give you store credit. Or a favor. Just … please could you come over?”
Why not? I had a couple of hours until I needed to meet with my client, and I’d planned to stop by anyway. “Sure. What time?”
“Now, please. Before it eats me.”
Chapter
Five
Unfortunately for Bronwyn, I was on empty.
I pulled into the corner station and gassed up Mom’s ten-year-old Mini. The car was the orange of marigolds two weeks after Día de los Muertos, and it shook like a leaf in a typhoon when I drove over eighty. Sharp turns were a battle for dominance with the steering wheel. But it ran better than my old Jeep and got way better mileage.
My mom’s car didn’t affect me the way her house did. There wasn’t anything of her essence in here, since she’d bought the used car shortly before she died.
Why didn’t you wait for me that night?
The nozzle clicked, indicating the tank was full. I twisted on the cap and jumped behind the wheel, not waiting for my receipt. Bronwyn was a strong witch and could hold her own in most situations, but I didn’t want to leave her hanging. I had, after all, told her I would help.
La Paloma was three miles from Smokethorn and, with a population of thirty-five thousand, over ten times its size. It was the governmental center of Smokethorn County and its largestcity. It took me under five minutes to reach the outskirts, and the radio blasted Queen’s “Don’t Stop Me Now” all the way there.
I sang with Freddie Mercury as I sped down agricultural backroads. I reached downtown Las Palmas in record time and parked behind a two-story, crumbling brick building in front of a laundromat and a hookah lounge.
Most businesses had their doors open. It was cool out, and the scents of fabric softener and minty shisha pleasantly flavored the air in the mostly empty rear lot. I locked up the Mini and ran the short distance to Bronwyn’s shop, my purse bouncing against my hip.
Chimes rang out when I went through the door. Not a spell—a motion sensor. Smart. Why waste magic on something you could plug into the wall?
I swept my gaze around the spacious shop, from the vaulted ceiling with its wooden rafters to the pale green linoleum floor. Walking into Wicked always felt like taking a step back in time.
“What’s the emergency?” I called out.
“Betty? Is that you?”
Ask a five-year-old to draw a princess witch and you’d get something that looked like Bronwyn every time. She was Tiana fromThe Princess and the Frogsans crown. She sometimes wore a black satin robe and pointed hat, claiming that customers expected it. Personally, I thought she just liked wearing them.
Today, she was dressed in a white cotton peasant blouse and skirt. Her long black hair flowed down her back in dozens of neat braids. Sweat beaded on her temples and her wide brown eyes appeared stark, but otherwise she looked fine.
“Yeah. You were a little vague on the phone. What’s up?”
The second the words were out of my mouth, they were rendered unnecessary.
A thick, green vine with purple striations dropped from the ceiling behind Bronwyn, and the botanical world’s version of man-eating shark peered around the side of an aisle.
I opened my mouth.
Shut it.
